Tracing Constellations
by The Smiling Angel
Summary: There were not enough stars in the night sky for everything she wanted to do. She could only grasp a pocketful of glitter and twilight in her small hand, but as long as she had the star representing her ill-fated love for Sirius Black, she would keep smiling. SiriusXOC, Marauder Era.
1. Starry Sky

**Tracing Constellations**

**A/N: Hi! Thanks for reading my story! I really hope this story isn't similar to any other story on this site, considering I've only read 5 out of 600,000 **_**Harry Potter**_** FanFiction stories. If it is, I sincerely apologize! I never meant to plagiarize another person's work. With that said, enjoy!**

**Chapter 1: Starry Sky**

Drawing my blanket closer to my neck, I peered outside the arched window above my bed and leaned my head against the cold glass. Light snores and even breathing were the only accompaniments to the thoughts whirling in my mind, though they weren't troublesome enough to keep me awake in the middle of the night. As days went on and the sun continued to take the moon's place in the sky, my sleeping hours shortened without harming my body. As if anything else could make me even sicker.

Going to bed early and waiting for the rest of my roommates to cease their whispering had its benefits, though I wished I could fall asleep the moment my head rested on my pillow sometimes. Some people can only endure gossip so much.

I tried not to care since I had better things to do with my limited time, but no amount of rational thinking could get rid of the hard lump in my throat and the hollowness nestled in my chest. At least, the gossiping wasn't about me, personally, which I had to be thankful for. My Ravenclaw roommates refrained from whispering about fellow students in our House (unless it involved besting one another in homework assignments and exams, which then quickly became "every wizard and witch for themselves"), but other Houses were not exceptions. If Slytherin wasn't tainted with such a frightening reputation at Hogwarts, I was positive Ravenclaw would be the House infamous for over-competiveness in academics and a tendency for devastating fellow students during exam week. We were a scary House because no one thought twice about us.

Underestimation was nearly always worse than overestimation.

Tonight's topic of interest in the girl's dormitory involved the usual: resentment that Professor Slughorn failed to include "brilliant" students in his Slug Club, the boyish cute looks of second year Ravenclaw student Gilderoy Lockhart, and the troublemaking antics of four sixth year students of Gryffindor, though I pushed the last thought away with a swallow that hurt my dry throat. Madam Pomfrey instructed me to drink more liquids, as the dryness will continue to grow while my illness progressed, though I was certain the constricting feeling in my throat had more to do with a certain dark-haired boy—

Shaking my head (which I instantly regretted when shots of pain reverberated across my skull) to scare away my bad, wandering daydreams, I glanced up at the night sky and sighed at the sight of familiar twinkling lights. Professor Flitwick, my Charms professor and the Head of House for Ravenclaw, specially gave this spot in the girl's dormitory for me when I asked him because there was only one window in our room. My roommates complained that I stole all the moonlight and starlight, but I reasoned in my head that they wouldn't appreciate such things in their sleep. Besides, they no longer had to deal with piercing sunlight in the morning.

I reached over to my right and picked up my journal from the top of my drawer. It had been really pretty when I had purchased it in Hogsmeade during my first visit four years ago with its cover of flowers that smelled differently every day, but it now seemed content with the scent of jasmine. I opened it to the first page, which was really the twenty-sixth page after I ripped out the first twenty-five, and pondered what else I would add to my list while using the full moon as my light.

Considering the countless number of stars in the universe, I decided last year to focus on the official eighty-eight constellations instead. It still wasn't enough for all my wishes, but a lifetime could only contain so much, and besides, I hardly had the right to be selfish. Just the eighty-eight wishes I desired and would never regret. Madam Pomfrey's diagnosis last week may force me to decrease the number of constellations and wishes because there was never enough time for anyone in this world, but I would make it work. Hopefully.

_1. Andromeda [Brightest Star: Alpheratz] – __**Be good to my parents**_

_2. Antlia [Brightest Star: Alpha Antlia] – __**Buy a pack of lemon drops for Headmaster Dumbledore**_

_3. Apus [Brightest Star: Alpha Apodis] – __**Write Madam Pomfrey a thank-you card**_

_4. Aquarius [Brightest Star: Sadalsuud] – __**Venture into the Restricted Section in the library, even though it's scary**_

_5. Aquila [Brightest Star: Altair] – __**Write Professor Flitwick a thank-you card**_

_6. Ara [Brightest Star: Beta Arae] – __**Make a Philosopher's Stone (just kidding!)**_

_7. Aries [Brightest Star: Hamal] – __**Watch my first Quidditch match, even though Ravenclaw is apparently bad**_

_8. Auriga [Brightest Star: Capella] – __**Sneak into the Shrieking Shack**_

_9. __Boötes [Brightest Star: Arcturus] – __**Buy a broomstick and fly once**_

_10. Caelum [Brightest Star: Alpha Caeli] – __**Apologize to Vivienne**_

_11. Camelopardalis [Brightest Star: Beta Camelopardalis] – __**Finish painting the common room's ceiling**_

_12. Cancer [Brightest Star: Tarf] – __**Write Professor Magnolia a thank-you card**_

_13. Canes Venatici [Brightest Star: Cor Caroli] – __**Give artwork to roommates**_

_14. Canis Major [Brightest Star: Sirius_

Heart pounding and cheeks reddening, my eyes only saw the last word (or name, really) I was able to write a few days ago before collapsing in a fit of smiles and giggles that should have overexerted my poor heart, but I only felt more alive. Then reality crashed down in a collision of cold realization and deafening disappointment that hurt my heart more. I took a deep breath to calm the thumping in my chest and leaned over to pick up my quill. Dipping it in ink, I carefully drew a heart next to _Sirius_ and added what was probably my sincerest and most painful wish:

_] – __**Continue to love him, even though I shouldn't**_

The room felt too stuffy and stunted my breathing as I read over what I wrote. I must be crazy. I shut my journal and returned it to its rightful spot on top of my drawer along with my quill with the intention of watching the night sky until I could fall asleep. Five years passed by since that single moment I fell in love, and I never spoke to him once. The sinking feeling in my gut felt lighter when I repeated to myself that he, at least, knew I existed. Or knew my name.

It happened during breakfast in my third year, the day of my first visit to Hogsmeade. I remembered the cherished moment well, as if the entire scene played out on the transparent window in front of me. I sat at the very end of the table and propped up a book, _Fairy Tales and Magical Creatures in the Wizarding World_, while I helped myself to toast and bacon. The seat across from me was empty, giving me a clear view of the adjacent Gryffindor table. Not that Sirius Black sat in front of me. He was at the middle of the table, along with his best friends, cracking his usual jokes and laughing with James Potter. I smiled into my book as his voice echoed across the Great Hall.

When I finished reading the chapter about unicorns, I decided I could peek at Sirius without arousing suspicion, but something else caught my attention. A fellow third year Ravenclaw student, Atticus Bolton, was standing across from the Marauders, a grin on his face and his arms crossed over his chest. I slowly placed my book on the table and pretended to pick at my bacon while straining to hear what Atticus was saying.

". . . It's definitely going to be better than most of the other subjects they're offering," he explained. Only Remus Lupin seemed to listen to him. Sirius and James were already delving into their own conversation while Peter Pettigrew ate his meal without fuss.

"I admit it sounds like a good class, but I don't know how helpful Alchemy will be," admitted Remus as my heart skipped a beat. Alchemy? "Besides, it's only for sixth and seventh year students."

"Better start planning ahead," said Atticus. "They're only offering the class for students who are interested, and trust me. It's a lot better than Divination and other stupid classes. A bunch of people in my House are already interested in it." As Atticus went down the list of potential Alchemy students, I returned to my book after giving Sirius a fleeting glance. The next chapter was about trolls, and I debated on skipping it because the cover image was already frightening me (and I thought the book would only contain delightful creatures) when my ears heard something strange.

". . . Let's see, who else is there?" wondered Atticus aloud. I glanced up and the look on Remus's face spelled out "I really don't care anymore, thank you very much," but Atticus was busy gazing at the blue sky and patting his finger against his chin. "I know there's someone else. . . Oh yeah, Cassiopeia Hong or something!"

My eyes widened to the point they watered from the pain and couldn't hide behind my raised book as Atticus added, "I can't believe I forgot her when she has such a weird name. Who wants to be called Cassiopeia?"

Not me, but I can't really help it.

"I'm pretty sure that's a star or something," commented James. I could pinpoint the exact second when my self-confidence deflated with little to no chance of full recovery. My name was weird _and _obscure.

"Cassiopeia is a constellation," corrected Sirius, and I was certain I began choking on my piece of toast as the words left his mouth. He wasn't even looking up from his food since this was just a passing statement for him, but this was quite easily the most magnificent moment of my life. My trembling hands tightened on my book, and I could only hear my heart thudding in my ears like a relentless drum. He knew my name! He knew what Cassiopeia was! He knew my name! He knew what Cassiopeia was! He knows me now!

It took all of my strength not to jump up from my seat, squeal, and dance as if everything was right with the world because my world was just perfect right now. My breath hitched in my throat when James laughed and replied, "Of course you would know that. Practically, the only thing you know, mate." Sirius simply shrugged with a grin on his handsome face, but even his smile didn't relieve the growing anxiety and curiousity strangling my throat. How did he know what Cassiopeia was? Can't he explain?

And the memory faded from there as the Marauders went about their own more important conversations, leaving me to stare at my bread crumbs, perhaps wondering forever why Sirius knew what (or who, I added with a giggly smile) Cassiopeia was.

I knocked my head against the window, a soft thud resounding, and wrapped myself securely with my blanket. James did say it was practically the only thing Sirius did know, which struck me as odd since Sirius was surprisingly intelligent for all of his ridiculous antics. Not that I ever considered him stupid (even mischievous people had to be smart to pull off pranks), but I never imagined he would get such good grades. The only conclusion that made sense to me was that James was teasing as usual, and I was reading too much into it, but it left such an empty feeling in my chest that I had to brainstorm other ideas unless I wanted my heart to wear down before its time. And I needed, wanted, hoped for more time.

The onset of melancholy and wistfulness contrasted greatly with my earlier exhilaration at the single thought of Sirius Black, and the pounding in my chest grew louder as if my heart was confused. A sick feeling grew in my stomach, and I curled up in my bed with the blanket over my head. It slowly began to suffocate me as my warm breath enveloped my face in the closed space, but I closed my eyes and begged for sleep to take me.

It was funny how most people never thought of death until they knew they were dying.

Bitterness filled the empty hole in my chest where my heart should be at the unfairness of everything. The tears no longer came as they wasted away last year and only pangs of resentment remained.

I threw the blanket off me and straightened my posture so I lay on my back. No, this was wrong. I made up that list for the exact reason of living the rest of my life with a smile, not fighting back tears when no one could hear or see me. I was lucky, fortunate, even blessed.

I repeated this mantra in my head until most of the sullenness lingering in my heart disappeared and thoughts of Sirius Black didn't make me bemoan the years I spent at Hogwarts. I still had lots I wanted to do, and my old journal needed to be filled with all my dreams and wishes. I would allow myself that much.

* * *

><p>The common room was its normally quiet self as Ravenclaw students disappeared in the comfort of sofas and armchairs with books in their hands. My first intuition was to look up at the ceiling and contemplate the next section I had to paint. I began this project in the last month of the previous school year when I resolved to do something both useful and beautiful, yet it wasn't an easy task for a number of reasons. I sat down in an armchair beside a bookcase filled with history books and decided to ask Professor Flitwick to help me if he wasn't busy later.<p>

"Good morning, Cassie," greeted one of my roommates, Lydia Croft, with a smile on her bright face.

"Good morning," I answered with a smile I hoped was as pretty as hers was. I tore my gaze away from the ceiling and waited as Lydia collapsed in the armchair next to me.

"The Potions homework was so hard," she said with a pout. "I don't know how a class could be so fun and have difficult homework."

"Did you finish it, though?" I asked.

"Fortunately, I did, but I'm still worried," Lydia replied. "Professor Slughorn is, at least, a nice teacher so I guess it's not that bad. I'm sure you finished your homework, but you went to bed a good three hours before the rest of us! Is Potions your best class?"

I gulped before explaining, "It's not, but I do have it easier than the rest of you."

"Oh right, you're only taking five classes," said Lydia. She peered closely at my face with a confused expression. "Why is that? You're really smart so the rest of us thought you would take a lot more classes."

"I decided not to" was my automatic reply to questions like this, and I hoped the finality of the statement gave Lydia a hint that I didn't really want to talk more about this subject. She stared at me for a moment longer and then blinked her light blue eyes at the same time she nodded. I leaned back in my seat when Lydia didn't press any further and soon disappeared to talk with her friends, leaving me to stare at the ceiling again.

I should have brought my reading book with me to keep me occupied until breakfast began when I remembered I had to meet Madam Pomfrey. A glance at the bronze clock adorned with an eagle told me I still had a good 20 minutes to spare, and I left Ravenclaw Tower with my head lowered. It was quick work opening the door and stepping over the porthole, though I grimaced at the thought of walking down seven staircases to reach the first floor. The hallways were empty as students were either sleeping or mingling in their respective common rooms, and I appreciated the silence, even though the sound of my footsteps was a bit eerie. I quickly brushed a strand of my black hair behind my ear at the sight of the hospital wing's closed doors and crossed my arms over my chest before bounding down the last few steps and walking across the hall.

I already talked with Madam Pomfrey last week at about the same time, give or take, but the locked door handle surprised me. I tried opening the door again, but when it didn't budge, I settled for standing to the side, albeit awkwardly, and looked down at my feet until someone unlocked the door. There was no sound coming out from the hospital, and the doors were usually unlocked unless there was an emergency. I skimmed my right foot across the polished floor, but looked up at the sound of clambering footsteps and loud voices. Students were coming down the staircases, which meant breakfast was about to start.

I stepped in front of the door to open it one last time and placed my hand on the golden handle when the door was wrenched open, and I fell forward with a lurch. Black filled my vision before my cheeks flushed in embarrassment at the realization I almost collided headfirst with someone's torso.

"Sorry about that," said a very familiar voice, and my body, even my flaring blush, froze in horror. "I didn't know you were there." Somehow, my eyes found the courage to look up, and I slowly straightened my posture.

Sirius Black was looking down at me. I almost collided into Sirius Black. Sirius Black was looking down at me. I almost collided into Sirius Black.

Sirius wasn't smiling, but his face didn't appear unkind. His expression was neutral as if he was looking outside the window or reading an easy book . . . That comparison didn't make me feel better.

For a moment, I panicked at the sudden loss of oxygen to my lungs and averted my eyes, looking left and right in dread. I waited for him to ask me to move, which I should have done without asking, but his silence confounded me to the point I dared to look up again.

Sirius's head was turned (he wasn't even looking at me), but I could hear voices coming from behind him. Instead of figuring out whom he was with, I instead took this chance to admire the sharpness of his jaw line and his long, dark hair that fell in loose waves very similar to my own. A thin cut on his neck made me raise my brow, but he suddenly faced forward again, and I almost squeaked in alarm and looked down at my feet. Too close.

"Go ahead," Sirius said, and I could hear him step away from the door. I fumbled for words to say—a simple "thank you" would be perfect—but my lips were stuck together, which I was actually grateful for because my voice would sound like a croak in my current state. Unfolding my arms and pretending to brush a strand of hair behind my ear to cover my motive of blocking most of my face from his view, I scurried past him, praying I wouldn't trip over my own feet, and stood to the side as far away from Sirius as possible.

It took all of my willpower not to collapse into the nearest hospital bed and bury my face in the pillow until my humiliation disappeared. I kept my head lowered, keenly aware of Sirius remaining by the opened door.

"Hurry up," he barked, and a rush of fear overwhelmed me. He couldn't be talking to me, right? I looked up again and saw Sirius looking back at the rest of the hospital wing again. Finally curious about what was going on, I followed his gaze and stared as Remus spoke with Madam Pomfrey and James and Peter were between Sirius and Remus. All three were looking at Remus, who adjusted his school robes as Madam Pomfrey whispered to him. I don't think anyone, aside from Sirius, knew I was here. Which actually made me happy.

Remus gave a single nod and followed James and Peter to the door, and Sirius grumbled something along the line of "finally" and held the door open for them before walking away without another glance. Feeling my courage return, I peeked at his retreating figure until the door closed with a solemn thud. A smile flitted across my face despite my earlier bout of shame, and it was only Madam Pomfrey's presence that stopped me from jumping and screaming. Sirius Black talked to me. He actually talked to me!

"Oh, Cassie, I didn't know you were there," said Madam Pomfrey with a tight smile. She hurried to a cabinet, and I followed her with light footsteps. "I was certain I locked the doors . . .," she muttered. I waited and held back my smile so I wouldn't scare Madam Pomfrey, who scrutinized my next bottle of potion before turning around.

"I trust you to take daily doses of this. An hour after breakfast, an hour after lunch, and an hour after dinner," she repeated with narrowed eyes. "Don't forget or I will know in your check-up next week."

"I will," I replied with a firm nod.

"If you don't, you may have to take up to six doses of this instead of three," added Madam Pomfrey. The look of terror on my face must have been enough for the matron to believe my conviction, and she handed me the green-tinted bottle. It had no label on it for my privacy.

"Thank you," I said, smiling. Madam Pomfrey raised an eyebrow at my display, but she simply shook her head and closed the cabinet doors.

"I don't know why you're so happy, but it's good that you're smiling," she commented, walking to an unmade bed. "Show off your dimples and be happy." My parents and professors loved repeating the last two words to me whenever they could, but it was nice today because I was actually happy without trying.

As I left the hospital wing and made my way to the Great Hall, I only thought about Sirius Black and how I should "learn how to breathe and talk when I see him" before I think about "continuing to love him."

**A/N: In case some people didn't know what the last name "Hong" was, Cassie is, in fact, East Asian in ethnicity. I hope no one minds!**


	2. Forgetting to Shine

**Tracing Constellations**

**A/N: Hi! Thanks for reading my story! Enjoy!**

**Chapter 2: Forgetting to Shine**

The tip of my quill scratched against parchment as I doodled in the corner of my notes to distract myself from the queasy feeling churning in my stomach and to stay awake as Professor Binns lectured on the developing relationship between wizards and giants. It was terrible that I couldn't fall asleep when I wanted to and stayed awake when I needed to sleep. I must be nocturnal now.

I leaned my head against my open palm and glanced around the room to observe my fellow students of N.E.W.T. History of Magic class. Ravenclaw was joined by Hufflepuff for today's lesson, which would explain why the usually dank classroom was humid from everyone's body heat. Not that I was complaining, since three layers of clothing and a thick robe still left me shivering as if it was the middle of January and not the beginning of October. I pulled down my sleeves to my wrists since the blank parchment wouldn't stain my clothing with ink and added more hair to a rough sketch of Sirius.

If someone looked over at my seat, I predicted two different reactions: he or she would comment, "Drawing a person on your notes is pretty creepy" or "That's a realistic drawing of Sirius Black!" I couldn't decide which one was worse. Luckily, my seat partner, a Hufflepuff for today, was preoccupied with crumpling sheets of perfectly fine parchment and enchanting it with his wand to throw across the room. And Professor Binns never noticed once. I had a rather soft fondness for parchment and ink so seeing my seat partner waste paper added a bitter taste to my already dry mouth.

The tonic for this week was worse than last week's, which was a rather bold statement. I drank a small dose in the girl's bathroom after scurrying out of the Great Hall while everyone else still ate and gagged at the horrible taste. I would say it tasted like boogers, but because I never tasted boogers before (or, at least, I don't think I have), I can only describe the taste as revolting, like boiled carrots. I hate carrots.

Which would also explain why I needed glasses while reading, but I didn't need them during classes unless a teacher used textbooks. Professor Binns preferred lecturing in his monotone voice that was perfect for telling bedtime stories so the glasses remained in my bag. I added a finishing touch to my drawing (sharpening his jaw line) and held back giggles because it looked exactly like how I remembered him from this morning.

My humiliation ebbed away as the reminder that Sirius actually talked to me occupied a prominent portion of my head, and I could just see my heart complain in exhaustion as it jumped around in my chest. I felt bad since the whole point of taking potions every day was to keep my heart strong for as long as possible, but what could I do? The heart wasn't the same as the mind, but it definitely had its own conscious or subconsciousness, really.

It was a pity my ink was black since Sirius's eyes were grey, but at least his hair was accurate. This parchment singlehandedly became one of the most valuable possessions I could ever have, and people wouldn't believe me if I told them it was my notes for History of Magic.

The scratching of wooden chairs against the stone floor, the shuffling of books, the loud voices of my classmates, and the continuation of Professor Binns's lecture despite all the commotion informed me that today's lesson was (finally) over. I stood up from my seat to gather all of my belongings, but frowned when I realized I wrote down nothing for my notes. I only saw Sirius's face in the top corner. Sighing because I would have to read through my history textbook and take my own notes before I forget, I carefully folded my drawing and hid it in the bottom of my bag and filed out of the empty classroom.

I lowered my head and watched out for people's feet that came too close to me. My next class was N.E.W.T. Potions with Professor Slughorn, a boisterous teacher who also happened to make my tonic with Madam Pomfrey's assistance. That was really the only reason I was taking potions. Class was in the dungeons, which meant more walking for me, and my stomach decided to voice its annoyance. I could feel hot bile rise up in my chest and slowly devour my throat. I covered my mouth and hoped I could hold it in until I reached the nearest bathroom when a shoulder, taller and broader than my own, collided into me.

I stumbled backwards, but managed to keep my hand over my mouth, though my backpack slid off and fell on the floor with a thud. "I'm sorry," I said, my voice muffled by my hand, and I glanced up. The bile inside my throat worsened and trickled into my mouth when I locked eyes with sixth year Slytherin student, Severus Snape, who eyed me. He just looked scary with his dark hair (which was the same color as Sirius's, yet had a different effect) and narrowed eyes, which held no contempt, and he walked away without another glance.

I crouched down on the floor to stuff my books and scattered parchment in my bag, but the hot bile filled my mouth and my throat gagged in disgust. Giving up on my belongings, I ran as fast as I could down the hallway and stumbled into the girl's bathroom. The door to the nearest stall collided with the metal barrier as I knelt down in front of the toilet and threw up whatever was in my stomach. I reminded myself not to swallow and coughed a few more times before flushing the toilet and wiping my hand across my forehead.

Cold sweat had broken out over my skin, and my entire body shivered, even though the bathroom was hot. The only thing I wanted to do was clean out my mouth, and I stood up despite the heat bearing down on my head when I saw a sliver of grey and a voice, high-pitched and girly, spoke, "You don't look so good. Do be careful when you're using the toilet. You might just die in here."

I jumped in surprise and clambered out of the stall as a ghost, a girl wearing school robes and round glasses, peered at me. "W-what?" I managed to stammer as she floated above the toilet.

"Of course you wouldn't understand what I just said," whined the ghost. "No one ever cares about what I have to say. Everyone looks down on me just because I'm a ghost!" She began wailing in a shrieking voice and flew right through me, a coldness enveloping my body as if she stole my soul, before wandering around the bathroom. I peeked outside the stall and finally remembered why she looked familiar. I ran into the abandoned girl's bathroom.

"Aren't you Moaning Myrtle?" I asked, walking to the sink and turning the faucet on. I could hear her voice become louder as I rinsed out my mouth a few times.

"And what if I am?" she shot back through her tears. "Do you have a problem with that? No one likes Myrtle because she's always crying. It's my crying that scares away all the cute boys, but I can't help it."

"I'm sorry," I told her, wiping my mouth with the back of my sleeve. "I forgot you were here." I sucked in my breath when I realized what I just said, but it was too late.

"Of course you would forget!" Myrtle shouted as she whirled around the bathroom in circles. "No one ever cared about me! Not when I was alive! Not when I was dead! Oh, poor Myrtle! People only knew me after I died, and that only lasted a week! The bullying doesn't even stop even when I'm dead! Everyone thinks it's OK to hurt my feelings because I'm a ghost!"

"I didn't mean that," I tried to reassure her, but Myrtle's crying only became worse. A heavy feeling filled my chest, but she appeared inconsolable so I squeaked another "I'm really sorry!" and ran out of the bathroom, with Myrtle's wailing echoing behind me.

I took a deep breath and scanned the hallway, which was empty as classes proceeded. I wasn't sure how Professor Slughorn would react to my tardiness because I was never late to his class (or any class, really) so a truthful explanation would have to do. My backpack was still somewhere on the floor, and I set out to reclaim it. Several minutes later and my breath wheezing as I walked back and forth across the hallway for the second time, I gave up on finding my belongings. They absolutely vanished, and I had a bad feeling Mr. Filch or Peeves had to do something with it. Mr. Filch, at least, I would be able to ask for my bag even though he scared me, but Peeves was an entirely different matter.

Deciding to head out to Potions class with two explanations prepared for Professor Slughorn, I walked down the staircase while my chest and stomach tightened. At first, I thought I had to throw up again, but when bile didn't twist around in my gut, I figured I was nervous because I felt like a troublemaker. Getting to class late and losing my bag made me fidget in anxiety, but Myrtle's words came crashing back, and I gripped the polished railing and stopped on the last step.

No one cared about her when she was alive, and no one cared about her when she was dead.

Would the same happen to me?

I sat down on the step and brought my knees to my chest as the staircase whirled around to connect with another staircase. No, I still had my parents. They would miss me. I was sure my professors will sort of miss me, too. I was far from a brilliant student, but I behaved well enough, except for today.

But maybe that was the problem. I didn't stand out at all.

Atticus Bolton, who was in the same House and the same year as me, had trouble remembering my name. Granted, I think he was the kind of student who only cared about his close friends, and there's nothing wrong with that, but it didn't make me feel any better.

I folded my arms over my knees and buried my face in my robes. I don't think a lot of people will show up at my funeral. Tears began wetting my sleeves, and they smudged against my face. Sobs escaped through my gaping mouth, but I couldn't hold them back.

I had no close friends for five years because I didn't know how to make any and when I finally found the confidence, I found out my date of death. At first, it was easy to say that it would be better to spend the last few months of my life alone since I was going to die alone anyways, but it was getting harder now. I wanted friends. I didn't want to be alone anymore.

Would anyone sincerely cry for me when I die?

I leaned my head against the railing and wiped away the remnants of tear stains on my face. There was no use crying. Some people will be remembered forever even after they die. More people will be forgotten in a few years. It wasn't as if I was the only person who will die in obscurity. The majority of people who came before me died in the same manner I will. I'm mature. I won't let little things like this ruin the happy mood I was in earlier.

I had to admit, though, that it would be nice if one more person, who wasn't my parents, their friends, or my professors, would show up at my funeral.

I raised my wet sleeves and forced a smile. And I thought I had no more tears. It'll be OK. Everything will be OK. If I kept thinking that, my smile won't be forced.

My footsteps slackened as I neared the stairwell leading to the dungeons. I wasn't sure why Professor Slughorn, or any Potions teacher for that matter, had classes down here because it felt as if we were descending the stairs for torture and imprisonment rather than mixing somewhat harmless ingredients together. I crossed my arms over my chest and shivered at the draft floating in the corridor as I slowly opened the door to Professor Slughorn's classroom.

It was just Ravenclaw students today, and they were already standing up and working on the next potion with their cauldrons. There was only the sound of chopping and liquids boiling, which meant I didn't miss too much of class. Now if there was a foul smell in the air, then I was really tardy. I stepped inside the classroom and closed the door behind me, feeling slight relief that no one seemed to notice me. I edged towards Professor Slughorn's desk, where he was standing and reading through a thick book with a crimson cover and golden lettering.

"Uh, Professor Slughorn?" I said, rubbing my sweaty hands together. He didn't look up. "Professor Slughorn?" I tried again in a louder voice. He gave one last glimpse at his book before looking up.

"Oh, Cassie, there you are!" Professor Slughorn greeted with a wide smile. "I thought you went to Madam Pomfrey's."

"N-no, I feel better now," I explained. "I'm really sorry f-for being late."

"Don't worry about that and get started on the next potion," Professor Slughorn replied. He nodded to his left. "Lydia Croft insisted that you work with her. She'll explain everything to you."

"The thing is. . . I lost my backpack, and i-it had my homework in it," I confessed, lowering my head as my heart pounded in anxiety.

"Isn't that your backpack over there?" Professor Slughorn asked. I looked up and widened my eyes at the confused expression on his wrinkled face. "By your desk." Turning around, I almost laughed in disbelief when I saw my backpack on my seat. Someone was kind enough to bring it.

"O-oh," I stammered before inclining my head slightly and shuffling to my desk. I lunged for my backpack and shifted through it. Everything was here! I smiled in relief, quickly took out my Potions essay, and turned it in at Professor Slughorn's desk (he grunted in approval). Before catching up with Lydia, I grabbed my Potions textbook and resisted the urge to look at my drawing of Sirius and make sure it was safe and sound.

"We can use my cauldron, Cassie," Lydia said, looking back at me and pointing at her cauldron. I nodded and walked towards her, eyeing the ingredients she was chopping up with a knife. Lydia looked back at her textbook, her dark brown hair shimmering against the darkness of her robe, and I tied back my hair in a loose ponytail.

"How are you feeling?" Lydia asked, glancing at me as she handed me a knife. I took it, placed it on the table, and turned to the same page she was on. "Hayden told me you looked like you were about to throw up."

"I-I did, but I feel better now," I replied.

"That's good," Lydia said. "You left your backpack in the hallway so I brought it for you. Hope you don't mind. I don't think anything's missing."

"Oh, wow, thank you," I told her with a smile. "I was a little worried." Lydia shrugged in response, and we fell silent as she added completed ingredients into the cauldron and mixed them together. Lydia was tall and wiry with a bit of muscle in her arms and legs. She worked out and trained during the summer with the intention of trying out for Seeker and "saving Ravenclaw's Quidditch Team." I didn't doubt her determination. Lydia was tall for a Seeker, but she was definitely light enough, and rumor had it she was an excellent flyer. I may have to modify number 7 in my journal.

The mixture was turning into the light blue color in the book, though Lydia didn't seem satisfied and scrutinized the potion. I, on the other hand, had to step away because the smell was horrible.

Professor Slughorn was making his rounds and inspecting each cauldron. Lydia didn't seem to notice and added a sprinkling of crushed mandrake root. A smile flitted across her face, and she stood back as Professor Slughorn appeared.

"Let's see," he said, peering into the cauldron. Professor Slughorn slowly grinned and commended, "Well done! Excellent, excellent!" Lydia beamed as he left and she daintily gathered her books and got rid of the mixture in the cauldron with her wand.

"You did really well," I said, and Lydia glanced at me.

"Maybe, but I'm still not a member of his Slug Club," she replied with a grim smile. "I guess I don't have enough "connections" for him." I remained quiet at her words and Lydia added, "We're having a study group for Charms and Potions in the library after dinner. Do you wanna come?"

A study group? My eyes widened in surprise, and I could have screamed "Yes!" in excitement when I remembered I had to speak with Professor Flitwick. My memory has bad timing. "Thanks, but I-I'm busy tonight," I replied. When Lydia raised an eyebrow, I added a small smile, and she sighed.

"Alright, but if you cry again, you have to tell me what's wrong," she warned. I quickly raised my hands to my eyes and bit my lower lip in frustration. Lydia had noticed my reddened eyes.

"I-It's nothing, but thanks," I quickly told her before grabbing my textbook. I gave her a small wave and retreated to my desk. Sitting down, I organized my backpack to check I did have everything when Professor Slughorn walked past me. He was headed for the door, and I stood up and asked, "Um, Professor Slughorn?" He paused and turned around with a frown. "I received the new tonic from Madam Pomfrey this morning."

"Yes, you were supposed to," Professor Slughorn commented. "It's a rather nasty one this time, but it'll do a good job."

"It's just. . . It upset my stomach after I drank it, and, um, I sort of threw up afterwards," I admitted in a quiet voice. Professor Slughorn's brow furrowed together as he seemed to contemplate my words.

"Hmm, I'm presuming the tonic may have been harsh on you, and if you throw up again, tell me and I will make you another one," he instructed. "I based the potion off the prescription and diagnosis St. Mungo's gave me, but they could be wrong. Worry not, Ms. Cassie. I do have a more prominent experience in creating tonics compared to the doctors at that hospital."

"Oh, yes, thank you," I said, as Professor Slughorn smiled and left the room. I waited until I couldn't hear his footsteps in the corridor before sitting down in my seat and clutching my head.

The tonic is getting worse? That could only mean it was getting stronger because. . . I rubbed my hands over my face and slung my backpack over my shoulder before heading for the door. It'll be OK. Everything will be OK.

**A/N: To Rusty Spork: Thank you for reviewing! Yes, Cassie is dying from a disease that hasn't been specified, yet, but there are hints here and there about what it may be. I'm really happy to hear you're anticipating her relationship with Sirius (Yay!), and I haven't decided if she'll learn about Remus. Maybe? ^o^ I love your username, by the way!**


	3. Darkened Stars

**Tracing Constellations**

**A/N: Hi! Thanks for reading my story! Enjoy!**

**Chapter 3: Darkened Stars**

The library was normally filled with studious sixth and seventh year students who decided to use their breaks mulling over homework questions and reviewing for tests. I liked to go to the library during my breaks, but not to study like the average Ravenclaw student. Nestled between the Goblin History and Ancient Creatures sections was a tiny little spot below a low-arched window. There was no furniture to sit on, but students rarely browsed through the surrounding bookshelves so this area was easily the quietest part of the library.

I discovered this treasure in my first year at Hogwarts since I had nothing better to do. Books were better companions than classmates were, and I preferred spending my time drawing and studying astronomy rather than gossiping. Not that I never wished to join study groups or clusters of giggling classmates. I would have loved to, but wishes were made of airier stuff than the harshness of reality.

_15. Canis Minor [Brightest Star: Procyon] – __**Drink as many butterbeers as I want**_

_16. Capricornus [Brightest Star: Deneb Algiedi] – __**Try all of the Every Flavor Beans**_

_17. Carina [Brightest Star: Canopus] – __**Collect all of the Chocolate Frog cards**_

_18. Cassiopeia [Brightest Star: Shedir] –_

I finally reached my namesake, which sentimentality beckoned me to write down my most fervent, most desirable wish here. Of course, I already did that with Canis Major (I added another heart next to Sirius because one heart looked lonely), but there must be something else. . . When only the buzzing of a fly cantering across the ceiling crossed over my mind, I realized this would be a harder task than I thought.

I shut my journal and placed it in my bag before leaning against the wall, the outside world's cold air seeping through the cracks of the window and ruffling the top of my head. How many accomplishments can a person achieve in the span of a lifetime? Perhaps the most venerated and praised wizard of this generation was Professor Dumbledore. But everything he accomplished was spectacular and world-changing, and he's been performing great deeds since he was young. At sixteen, I only had about four months left to live. I don't think it's possible for me to assist anyone in creating a Philosopher's Stone like Professor Dumbledore so thinking realistically was the most reasonable choice I had.

It was difficult to decide what I would do for the rest of my life because such things came naturally to people who will eventually die from old age. People made future plans, but they were long-term and involved living for a long time, a privilege I didn't have. How many things could I do in four months? It was a great challenge that made both my heart flutter in anticipation and my stomach sink from dread.

The sound of hushed whispers and the louder, angrier voice of the librarian signified the end of the break and the beginning of lunch. My earlier bout of throwing up made me lose my appetite, but Madam Pomfrey did insist that I take the tonic again an hour after lunch. With a sigh, I gathered my belongings and disappeared into the moving crowd of students.

Peeves' cackling laughter could be heard from down the hall, but most students, except for the first years, either ignored or even greeted him. From below the staircase near the Great Hall, I could see the silvery wisps of Nearly Headless Nick, the ghost of Gryffindor House. He was amiable compared to the other House Ghosts (Ravenclaw's tended to be depressed most of the time), but it was no wonder he had a heated rivalry with the Bloody Baron, the ghost of Slytherin. Even after death, Gryffindor and Slytherin still hated each other.

A tall, well-built student jostled my left shoulder, and my backpack almost slid off for the second time today. I could hear my tonic slush inside my bag and hoped it hadn't spilled anywhere as the Great Hall came into view.

I took my usual seat at the very end of Ravenclaw's table, the closest spot to the table where the professors sat at the end of the Hall. Today's lunch consisted of potato and meat stew, and I thanked the house elves in my head for providing food I could actually stomach. There were also loaves of bread and bowls of mixed garden salads, though I reached for the stew first and a cup of cold water. Professor Flitwick was present, along with Professor McGonagall, though I didn't see any other teachers.

I reached for my bag to take out _Astronomy and the Magical World_, a present I received for my sixth birthday from my mother, but paused when classmates sat beside me: Lydia to my left, Karol next to her, and Rose and Margot across from us. Along with Lydia, I was roommates with Karol, Rose, and Margot, though the most I've said to them was "good morning." When it became apparent that they wanted to sit next to me, I slowly withdrew my hand from my bag and began eating my meal without a book for the first time since I've attended Hogwarts.

It was nerve-wracking, to be honest.

"Oh, goodness, Hayden isn't even hiding the fact that he's ogling you, Lydia," observed Margot with a shake of her head as she took a bite of her salad.

"He was yesterday, but I think he gave up," Lydia admitted, though there was faint blush against her tanned skin.

"It's no surprise since everyone knows he's fancied you when school started," said Karol. She tended to be the source of gossip in the dormitory, but she was nice enough not to spread malicious rumors. Or at least I thought she didn't.

"It must be so nice, having a boy fancy you," sighed Rose, looking at her stew with a pout. I agreed.

"Only if he's cute," Lydia corrected.

"And Hayden is definitely cute," laughed Margot.

I glanced at Lydia between bites, and pangs of jealousy rippled through my chest before guilt overwhelmed me. Lydia was pretty and nice so it was no wonder the boys liked her. I looked into my stew like Rose and wondered if boys found me appealing. . . Probably not because I was more of a buffer for them when the hallways became crowded.

I poked at a chunk of meat with my spoon and raised my eyes, hoping I looked inconspicuous. The Gryffindor table was full and rowdy as usual and in the middle of it all was the Marauders. Which meant Sirius and James while Remus simply smiled and Peter admired his best friends with watery eyes. He must cry a lot like me.

Sirius and James appeared excited about the upcoming Quidditch season and talked animatedly with old and new members of Gryffindor's team with dramatic hand gestures and booming laughter. James was a famous Chaser, though I knew Sirius didn't actually play Quidditch (he preferred motorcycles, not that I would know, of course). He looked so different from this morning with his face bright and that charming grin that captivated girls all over Hogwarts. If only he could smile at me like that, too.

I reluctantly drew my eyes away from Sirius and raised an eyebrow when I saw Lily Evans a few seats away from the Marauders. She normally wore a pinched expression on her face as if she smelled something horrible when Sirius or James (especially James) was within eyesight or audible, but she seemed placid now, almost ignoring them. I couldn't tell if that was an improvement or the lowest point in James and Lily's relationship. Something caught the corner of my eye, and I glanced at Sirius, who was waving around a piece of parchment in his hand almost proudly, but I couldn't tell what it was.

"How's Art class, Cassie?" asked Lydia suddenly, and I whirled towards her in surprise. She asked me quite casually, but the rest of our roommates stared at her as if she spoke to a toad. When my mouth clamped together at the sudden attention I was receiving, Lydia glanced at the girls and added, "You guys didn't know? Cassie's a really talented artist. She's the one who's painting the ceiling in the common room."

"Really?" exclaimed Margot in genuine surprise, making me flush and duck my head. "How come I haven't seen you paint?"

"Not to mention the ceiling's really high up," added Karol.

"I-I have a lot of time because I only take two classes every day," I explained. "And I'm not afraid of, um, heights. That's all."

"Only four classes? Is that even allowed?" wondered Rose, finally looking up from her stew.

"Five, including Astronomy on Wednesday nights," replied Lydia, who noticed my fidgeting. I gave her a grateful smile, and she only shrugged as Margot, Karol, and Rose badgered me with questions about my painting before it turned into a complete gossip circle about my Art teacher, Professor Magnolia ("You're so lucky!" "I've only seen him from afar!" "He's so handsome!"). It was the most eventful lunch I've ever had, and I was a sweating, nervous wreck by the time it was over, yet I was smiling.

I took one last sip of my water and peeked at Sirius (still holding that mysterious parchment in his hand) as empty plates and leftover food began to disappear from the table. Lydia and the rest of my roommates bade me goodbye as they all had a class right after lunch with Lydia reminding me that I was free to join their study group after dinner. Seeing Professor Flitwick still converse with an amused appearing Professor McGonagall, I grabbed my bag and headed for the Art classroom on the second floor.

The Art classroom was rather large for an extracurricular subject, and the large arched windows reminded me of Ravenclaw's common room. It gave an impressive view of the Great Lake and the surrounding grassy area, which Professor Magnolia insisted that the sight inspired artists. I gave a single knock on the ebony wood door and opened it slowly.

Professor Magnolia stood before a standing canvas near the window with his back turned towards me. He was tall with long light blond hair tied back in a loose ponytail, and my face flushed red when I pictured how Margot, Karol, and Rose gushed over his good looks. Not that I never knew he was handsome, but now that other girls expressed their attraction towards him, I couldn't help but feel a bit shy. Just a tiny bit shy because he already had a girlfriend and I didn't want to tell the truth to my roommates unless I wanted my hair pulled out as if _I_ was his girlfriend.

"Is that you, Cassie?" Professor Magnolia called out without turning around.

"Hi," I said, closing the door behind me and approaching him. He turned his head around and smiled before gesturing to his canvas.

"A present for my mother because she's adamant that I adore my girlfriend more than her," Professor Magnolia explained.

"It's already really beautiful," I stated. He was painting the ocean and was adding special paint to make the translucent blue waves shimmer every so often.

"Thank you. It's a work in progress," replied Professor Magnolia, laying down his brush. "I'm assuming you want to continue painting the ceiling?" I nodded in reply, and he motioned for me to follow him to the supply room that overflowed with unused canvases, shelves stuffed with paints, and regular parchment for sketching. It was heaven.

"Just finished this last night with Professor Flitwick's help. Charms has never been my strong point," Professor Magnolia said with a wry smile. I watched with widened eyes as he lifted up a miniature scaffold with a flat wooden platform on iron brackets. He took his wand out of his robe and tapped the scaffold. "Extend," he said, and the platform began to grow in size and height before he said "stop" and then "reduce."

Smiling, I took the small scaffold from Professor Magnolia, who added, "The platform is quite strong, and I even walked around on it for an hour so it's completely safe. And in case a bluthering idiot walks by and messes up the scaffold while you're on it, Professor Flitwick charmed it so it can only respond to my wand, his, and yours." He picked up my wand, which I gave to him last night, from his organized desk and returned it.

"Thank you," I said, slipping my wand into my robe and holding the scaffold with both hands despite its rather miniscule weight. Professor Magnolia gave a small wave and returned to his canvas while I left the room and headed for Ravenclaw Tower. The staircases twisted and turned until I reached the old wooden door and the bronze eagle knocker. I shifted the scaffold to my left hand and knocked on the door.

"If it's information you seek, come and see me. If it's a pair of letters you need, I have consecutively three. Who am I?" asked a voice coming from the opened beak of the eagle. Information, three pairs of letters. . . Researcher. Professor. Teacher. Librarian. Oh!

"I think you're a bookkeeper," I said.

"I believe I am," replied the voice, and the door swung open.

I entered the empty Ravenclaw common room and headed towards the dormitories, staring a little bit at the marble bust of Rowena Ravenclaw, who seemed to watch my every move with her piercing, sculpted eyes. I scurried past her, opened the door, and ascended the left staircase that led to the girls' hallway.

The walls of the circular room were painted light blue that matched well with the peach colored carpet and the royal blue rugs with the heads of golden eagles. The bathroom was to the left, and my own bed was in the middle of five. The blue curtains were pulled back, and full sunlight illuminated my four-post bed. I dropped my bag on top of the blanket and held onto the scaffold as I shifted through my drawer to take out my paint set. Having everything I needed, I quickly left the dormitory and began setting up the scaffold underneath the domed ceiling of the common room.

I stepped onto the scaffold with my paint set in hand and tapped the platform with my wand, saying, "Extend." A breath escaped my opened mouth, and I knelt down to control my balance as the iron brackets grew taller and the platform wider. Keeping my wand by my side, I sat down on the extending platform and waited until I was a comfortable distance away from the ceiling before tapping the scaffold again, "Stop."

Securing my wand in my robe again, I peered down, noted the distance to the carpet, and looked up at the ceiling. I had already painted the constellation Aquila in the very center of the ceiling two weeks ago with Professor Flitwick's help. He kept me up in the air quite easily with a few of his charms, but our schedules didn't match, which is why he made the scaffold with Professor Magnolia so I could paint alone. The next constellation I wanted to paint was Leo, which I thought would look good just a little bit below Aquila. It was a little sad that there were constellations for all the Houses except Hufflepuff and figured badgers were not nearly as popular as eagles, lions, and snakes.

Plotting all the main stars of Leo with a little dab of paint was easy work, and when the constellation seemed like it was a good size-not too big, not too small-I began painting Regulus, the brightest star in Leo. I heard Sirius had a younger brother named Regulus, but I haven't actually seen the two together so I wasn't sure. The older brother in Gryffindor and the younger in Slytherin. Fate's sense of humor was slightly off-kilter.

I craned my neck upwards and painted each star like the ones people would draw quickly over good papers or add into cute accessories. It was the same logic as drawing the symbolic representation of a heart, rather than the actual organ—people would notice these were stars, rather than just blobs of glittery white. Regulus was nearly finished and I began coating it with the same shimmering paint Professor Magnolia was using when I glanced at the clock. About five more minutes until an hour after lunch.

Finishing Regulus with a few more dabs of paint, I gathered my paint set, reduced the scaffold, and carried it in my arms on my way back to dorms. There were still about six hours left until dinner, which meant I could probably finish two constellations today, maybe even three. I set the scaffold and paint set aside and reached for my bag, shifting through it until I found my bottle of tonic.

I drank straight out of it since I didn't want to subject cups to the torture of touching this potion and swallowed a large gulp of it while squeezing my eyes closed. It still tasted revolting. Replacing the cork on the bottle, I sat on my bed for a moment and wondered if there was anything I could eat or drink after taking this. Chocolate wasn't good for me, and I didn't like pumpkin juice. Water hardly helped, and peppermints made me sneeze, even though I'm not allergic to them. Maybe I should ask Madam Pomfrey later.

I placed the tonic inside my drawer and was about to zip up my backpack when I remembered my drawing of Sirius. Maybe just a quick peek before I start painting again. . . With a small smile, I shifted through my backpack and looked for my drawing, but couldn't find any spare piece of parchment. What the. . . My eyes widened in confusion as I pulled out books, quills, bottles of ink, and my journal, but the drawing of Sirius was nowhere to be seen.

"This can't be happening," I whispered, shaking apart each book for paper to fall out, but nothing came out. No way. No way. With trembling hands, I combed through the pile of books again and hung my backpack upside down with no sign of the drawing. This wasn't supposed to happen. What am I going to do? It must have fallen out when I dropped my backpack in the hallway.

Didn't Lydia pick up everything, though? Come to think of it, I don't think I saw her in the hallway. Maybe she came later, which meant someone had enough time to search through my belongings and pick out Sirius's drawing. . . Oh, what do I do? He can't see it! If he or any one of the Marauders sees it. . . My life would be over before my heart expires.

Tossing my backpack aside, I ran out of the dormitory and Ravenclaw Tower all the way down to the first floor without stopping. My heart and lungs complained by the time I reached the third floor, but I couldn't stop. This was terrible, terrible beyond belief. As I landed on the first floor, I clutched my head and tried to calm myself down. I left History of Magic class, bumped into Severus Snape in the hallway, dropped my backpack, and ran into the girl's bathroom where Moaning Myrtle is. OK, I just needed to retrace my steps and the drawing will eventually appear.

I checked every inch and corner between Professor Binns' classroom and Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, but nothing appeared. No tile was out of place, no piece of paper was sticking out of closed doors. The floors were clear, and the portraits didn't seem to know if there was a missing drawing anywhere. I peered behind a statue of wizard concocting a potion in a cauldron, hoping my drawing was stuck in his ladle or pointed hat, but the sound of loud voices scared me, and I hid behind him, grateful for my short height and thin build. The stern-looking wizard concealed me from view as the Marauders appeared. I was certain class wasn't over, yet, and for the first time in my life, I wasn't happy to see Sirius. Oh, he can't see it. He just can't.

The erratic thumping of my hear pounded in my ears, and I couldn't quite understand what they were talking about. James seemed to be teasing Remus about a book he was reading, and Sirius was showing that same piece of parchment to an eager Peter. Just what was that paper that Sirius was so excited—wait, it couldn't be. A soundless scream emitted from my mouth as I sat down on the floor and leaned back against the statue.

Sirius has my drawing. He saw my drawing. He's showing off my drawing. He picked up my drawing from the floor.

I covered my face with my hands in horror. I can't do this. I can't live. Is it possible for a single human being to feel this devastating amount of mortification and still be able to think and breathe? Why did it have to be him out of all the people in the school? Why?

"If you're done showing off your face, put that drawing away now," I heard Remus say to Sirius. "It's all you've been talking about today, and my ears are getting numb."

"My handsome looks are easy on the eyes, though," Sirius laughed, and I nodded in agreement through my hidden face. "Who knew I could look so dashing in ink and scratch paper?" It's actually expensive writing paper, but that doesn't matter at the moment.

"I can't tell if you have a secret admirer or a stalker," James admitted. What? I hid my face again. Secret admirer! Secret admirer! I am not a stalker!

"This person could be a pervert or an old hag for all I care—"I groaned soundlessly "—but I'm going to find this person and commission more artwork myself," Sirius declared. Oh, please don't. "Portrait-sized to hang up in the common room."

"It does have to be big enough for your ego," James chortled, and I could hear Sirius laugh and playfully punch his best friend.

"It'll be hard since you found this in the hallway," noted Peter, and I could have bowed before his sensibility.

"No, it's simple. How many people here can actually draw this well?" Oh well, thank you. "It'd be a piece of cake rounding up the artistic people and, bam! My handsome face will grace every room and hallway." Oh well, no thank you. "I'll even put Permanent Sticking Charms on them so Filch can't take 'em down."

"I'd put one in Slytherin just to annoy the snot out of Snivellus," James said.

"And have him disturb my perfect face with his huge nose and oily hair?" Sirius snorted, as their voices faded down the hallway. "The hair on my skin's already tingling in horror. . ."

The relationship between Sirius, James, and Severus wasn't a mystery to anyone at Hogwarts, and while Sirius and James bullying Severus left an uncomfortable feeling in my stomach (horrifying memories of last year still made me shiver), I couldn't help but dislike Severus a little bit, no matter how unfair. If only he didn't bump into me or if only I didn't bump into him. None of this would be happening.

There was only one thing left to do. I had to get the drawing back. Which would require getting near Sirius Black. And I was nowhere near ready to do so.

**A/N: To vany: Thank you for reviewing! I'm really happy to hear you're enjoying the story so far! I'll do my best to make each chapter better than the last!**


	4. Stardust

**Tracing Constellations**

**A/N: Hi! Thanks for reading my story! Enjoy!**

**Chapter 4: Stardust**

The most I had accomplished in the last hour was staring up at the canopy of my bed and dangling my reading glasses from the very tip of my fingers. Crumpled sheets of paper were scattered everywhere, and my quill lay abandoned by my outstretched feet. My eyes and brain felt numb from thinking too much, and I could hear the ticking of the clock from near the bathroom.

The options I had ruled out earlier on the premise of being "too risky for my sanity and health" included approaching Sirius too closely, which left only long-distance recovery. Of course, this would only succeed if Sirius was still clutching and waving around the drawing tomorrow morning. Who knows? Maybe he already placed a Permanent Sticking Charm on the drawing and hung it up on his wall? With my free hand, I grabbed my pillow and stuffed it against my face in exasperation. Why does he like that drawing so much? I'm not flattered at all! Only irritated!

Using _Accio _was my number one choice, but Charms was never my strongest subject, and I wasn't the most powerful witch out there, especially not in Hogwarts. Before I could compose a monologue in my head about how terrible my magical powers were, I turned my attention back to _Accio_. This would undoubtedly work better if the drawing was sticking out of Sirius's backpack or if it was on a table or some other kind of surface. I cringed thinking about using _Accio_ while Sirius was holding the drawing and could already see him chasing after the floating parchment and finding me waving my wand around. Caught red-handed.

I would have to get reasonably close to him to cast the charm, and a spot with an easy passage to escape. The thought of other students witnessing this faulty recovery negated the very purpose of reclaiming my drawing. What did it matter if Sirius didn't seem me use _Accio_ and run off with the drawing? Someone was bound to see the entire thing, and I'd be ruined either way.

Deciding to use _Accio_ only if it was sensible enough, I went down to number two on my list of long-recovery options. I couldn't even believe myself, but Peeves could be pretty useful. The problem with Peeves was his unpredictability. It was a well-known fact the prankster ghost only listened to Professor Dumbledore and the Bloody Baron of Slytherin House, and I was positively certain Dumbledore was much too important for a matter like this. That left the Bloody Baron, and he was as introverted as the Grey Lady was so I would have to rely on simply using his name to make Peeves do what I want. . . Phrasing it that way makes me sound very cruel.

However, there was no guarantee Peeves will listen to me, and even if there was a sliver of a chance he will, there's no knowing what he will do with the drawing or even what he will say during his escape. He could easily expose me, and I can't even blame him since I was mean enough to use his fear of the Bloody Baron against him. _Accio_ was too risky and Peeves too unpredictable.

Which left me with the last option I could come up with before my brain retired for the night. An owl swooping down and snatching the drawing right out of Sirius's hand. I didn't have my own owl and instead enlisted the help of my family owl, Lyra, when I needed to send letters to my parents. When I went to Diagon Alley for the first time, I absolutely refused to buy a cat, toad, or rat and asked my parents for a puppy instead, but they didn't because it wasn't on the school supply list. I got away with not having a pet since I used Lyra instead, but now I wished I had my own owl since Lyra wasn't here at Hogwarts' Owlery or, at least, I thought she wasn't.

I didn't think it quite mattered because it would be safer to use a school owl since anyone could use them. I'd just have to use a trustworthy-appearing owl, ask it to take the parchment in Sirius's hand, and then reward the owl handsomely whether or not he or she returned with the drawing since it would be ungrateful not doing so. The problem again was there was no guarantee Sirius will be holding the drawing. I'd probably have to remain in the Owlery until the owl returns, which means there was little to no possibility I will even recover the drawing.

Bemoaning the turn my life took in a single moment, I turned onto my stomach and thought about simply taking my drawing back from Sirius myself instead of relying on my terrible magic powers, Peeves, and an owl. I wasn't sure if I was more reliable than Peeves and an owl since I've already proven the most I can do around Sirius is not to faint, but I had to try.

Was it that bad Sirius had my drawing? He did seem to really like it, which made my heart flutter, but I reminded myself that he was looking for the person who drew it. What if he found out it was me? What if he thought I was creepy? What if he figures out my feelings for him? This was a lose-lose situation for me, and I believed everything will return to normal if he just didn't have my drawing anymore. No point of reference. No artist. No exposed feelings. No rejection. No disappointment. No heartbreak.

The door opened, and I quickly sat up, put my black glasses on, and gathered my failed plans as Lydia walked inside. She raised an eyebrow at all the crumpled paper and asked, "Is that your homework?"

"No, just writing something," I replied with a shake of my head. I deposited all of them into a trash bin near my drawer and tucked the copy of my final battle plan in my journal. Lydia's bed was to my right, and she plopped down and dumped all of her books on the floor.

"It's October, and I'm so done with school," she sighed, snaking an arm over the top portion of her face. Lydia kicked off her dark brown shoes that clattered mutely against the carpeted floor.

"If you need help with homework, I can try to help," I offered, keenly aware of my unopened History of Magic textbook glaring at me from the confines of my backpack. The only homework I had finished tonight was for Charms, Alchemy, and Astronomy because I had those classes tomorrow. History of Magic and Potions remained untouched since I had more important priorities. I really was in no position to offer help, though.

"It's not exactly homework, well, yeah, it is the homework, but. . ." started Lydia, but she fell silent as the door opened again and Margot, Karol, and Rose marched inside with piles of books in their hands. I knew all of my roommates took seven classes, but unlike Lydia, I could hardly tell Margot, Karol, and Rose were, judging by their smiles, laughter, and the easy way they placed their textbooks on the ground compared to Lydia dropping hers as if they caught on fire.

"How was Potions homework, Cassie?" asked Karol. Lydia talking to me during lunch must have informed them I was capable of speech. "Do you need help with it? It took us a while, but I think we'll get a good grade on it."

"Th-thanks, but I didn't start on it, yet," I replied, looking down at my bare feet.

"Hmm? Then what were you doing?" asked Margot.

"I was doing other stuff," I started meekly before adding, "For Professor Magnolia." That seemed to be the trick because Margot, Karol, and Rose began gushing about my art teacher's good looks, and the conversation went to handsome, swoon-worthy men in general. I glanced at Lydia, who managed to wriggle out of her robes and hide underneath her blankets, though she wasn't asleep, yet.

". . . It's one thing to have so many good-looking men at school, but it's all useless if you're not dating one of them," Margot declared as she buttoned up her pajamas.

"Lydia," said Rose with a pointed look from the bathroom.

"Stop ignoring Hayden," said Karol, peeking at Lydia from the curtain of her straight, light brown hair.

"I'm sleeping," Lydia announced, turning onto her stomach without changing out of her uniform. While Margot scolded her for doing this ("Your clothes will be all wrinkly in the morning!"), I quickly changed into my own pyjamas and snuggled into my blankets. The only time I ever listened to my roommates' conversations were when they involved the good-looking boys at our school because that was really the only worthwhile gossip.

". . . Don't you just love how each House has a representative handsome guy?" gushed Rose between brushing her teeth.

"Hayden for Ravenclaw," replied Margot in a forceful voice. Lydia ignored her.

"Cecil for Hufflepuff," crowed Karol while skimming through a rather large book.

"Regulus for Slytherin," said Rose, though it was hard to make out what she was saying as she gurgled and rinsed her mouth.

"I still can't decide for Gryffindor," sighed Margot as if contemplating the most difficult questions life had to offer, such as the meaning of life itself. It was definitely one I pondered on during the night. "James or Remus. Both are so dreamy." I raised my eyebrow. It wasn't like Margot to forget a handsome guy.

"What about Sirius?" asked Rose as she turned off the bathroom light and voiced a question I had.

"He's the representative handsome guy for Hogwarts," Karol replied without looking up from her book. Oh, what brilliant sensibility. I wholeheartedly agreed, and Rose seemed to approve, too, as she hummed and settled down into her bed.

"James or Remus. James or Remus," continued Margot as if Karol and Rose hadn't spoken.

"I'd say James if he wasn't so hung over Lily Evans," sniffed Karol, and she looked up from her book to glare at no one in particular. Perhaps she was glaring in the direction of Gryffindor's dormitory for girls.

"I'd say Remus, but he looks really sick sometimes," said Rose thoughtfully.

"That's settled then. Sirius for both Gryffindor and Hogwarts," declared Margot, and I could've have shaken her hand and kissed her check for her wisdom if not for the fact no one is supposed to know about my crush on Sirius. It was only significant for me, but a secret was no longer a secret if shared with someone else.

When the conversation turned to handsome Quidditch players, I tuned out their voices since Sirius didn't play the sport and glanced at Lydia again. She was lying on her stomach and seemed to be asleep, which was a pity because she appeared upset earlier. I don't know what I would have told her or if I even had the right to, but I could listen. I quietly spread out the curtains gathered beside my bed, dropping a veil between the outside world and myself.

I needed all the sleep I could get in preparation for the chaos tomorrow.

* * *

><p>I crept around the empty hallway in a manner that would have seemed suspicious to people like Mr. Filch if it wasn't so early in the morning. I couldn't hear Peeves's laughter anywhere (since his voice preceded high-pitched screams and vases breaking) and wondered if ghosts slept. Which was a silly idea when I thought about it for a moment.<p>

I never imagined the day would come where I would purposefully seek out Peeves since everyone normally ran in the opposite direction, but desperate people did risky things. I regretted not bringing an umbrella with me since Peeves enjoyed drenching people with water and hoped he wouldn't break something near me. The last thing I wanted to do was wake up the dead with my screaming.

"Honk, honk!"

A squeal escaped my mouth as I ducked in time for the ghost to swoop down and whirl around the ceiling. "Honk" was the nickname Peeves gave me after learning my full name, and I was admittedly flattered he knew my name and even gave me a funny nickname, considering Professor Binns was also a ghost and my teacher, and he called me everything from "Keith" to "Catherine." At least he got the hard "c" sound right.

"Hi, Peeves," I said with a wince as he dived in and out of the walls, disrupting sleeping portraits and garnering strangled curses from a snoozing farmer. Peeves blew a raspberry at him, causing the old man to wave his pitchfork at the ghost.

"Can I talk with you?" I asked, clenching my hands together. Peeves blew a raspberry at me, too, and screeched, "Honk, honk!" again as he flew around me. Taking a deep breath, I added, "The Bloody Baron sent me. He has a favor, and he would like for you to listen to me." Peeves paused in his flying to peer at me straight in the eye, and it struck me then that students over the years must have used the same tactic against him. Oh, bother. I gave the poltergeist the most serious look I could muster, but it must have looked silly because he screamed in my face and pulled my hair before twirling in the air.

I rubbed the top of my head, hoping Peeves didn't pull out too much hair, and tried again, "You know Sirius Black, right? From Gryffindor? He likes to joke around a lot like you." That was quite the understatement, but Sirius's name must have been familiar because Peeves flew back after unhinging a painting from the wall. The two ladies in their extravagant party hats threatened the poltergeist with their dainty gloved hands.

"What you want with Silly White?" asked Peeves with a narrowing of his already narrowed eyes.

"It's more like what does the Bloody Baron want with Sirius Black," I said. Before I could lose the rare amount of attention Peeves was giving, I explained, "He has a parchment in his hand the Bloody Baron wants, except you're the only one who can get it. If you can get the parchment from Sirius Black, please give it to me because the Bloody Baron asked me to give it to him." I wasn't sure when lying became second nature to me, but the words flew out of my mouth as if I was reciting a well-memorized verse, and Peeves flicked my forehead before flying away.

"P-Peeves," I called out, rubbing my forehead and whirling around to see him disappear. I was the only one left in a hallway filled with the murmured discontent of half-awake portraits. There was no way of knowing if Peeves will do as I ask, and there was chance he will snatch the parchment and hand it to the Bloody Baron himself. Which wasn't too much of a problem, except for the fact I was utterly terrified of the ghost. With a sigh, I straightened all the paintings I could reach with my height before retreating to Ravenclaw Tower.

There was a buzz in the hallway different from the portraits' grumbling, and students flooded the corridors on their way to breakfast. Deciding to forgo my book for today, I headed towards the general direction of the ever-moving staircases when Peeves flew overhead with his usual laughter. How nice it would be if he could do as I requested. I gave the poltergeist another glance, but stared a bit longer when I saw something in his hand. No way.

"PEEVES!"

I hung close to the wall, bumping into a suit of armor, as Sirius Black pushed through the crowd and dodged baffled students in his pursuit of the ghost, who blew a raspberry at him and opened the parchment to admire the drawing.

"Even a drawing of you is ugly, Silly White!" Peeves jeered. I could see Sirius's mouth move as he muttered something unintelligible and stopped right in front of the poltergeist with his hands in his pocket. Heart pounding wildly, I hid behind a suit of armor and forced myself not to slap my forehead. It was one thing for Peeves to take the drawing, but it was another entirely different matter of him actually giving it to me. Everywhere, students watched with whispers and bated breaths as Sirius reached out his right hand and motioned for Peeves to give the drawing back.

"If you return the drawing now, I won't tell the Bloody Baron about this," he said as I clapped a hand over my mouth. Oh, bloody hell. Peeves must have been annoyed with all these threats about the Bloody Baron because he made a show of pretending to tear the parchment into small pieces. One-half of my sanity wanted him to do so; the other half cried.

"What a pain in the arse, you annoying little twit," Sirius growled, running a hand through his black hair and rubbing the back of his neck. The sight was quite breathtaking, and I shortly forgot that I wasn't hiding behind a suit of armor to admire Sirius Black exemplifying his handsome looks. I glanced around like an alert rabbit in case someone noticed how suspicious I looked, but everyone's eyes were fixed on the stare-down.

Then from the crowd was a streak of white light, and Peeves flew backwards and dropped the parchment, which drifted onto Sirius's waiting hand. His stance was casual as Peeves looked stunned, and Sirius gave an approaching James a high-five. James tucked his wand into his robe and appraised Peeves, who looked like he was going to cry, and my heart clenched together in guilt until the poltergeist straightened his posture and cackled in laughter.

"Why are you trying to steal this?" Sirius asked, waving the parchment in a slightly gloating manner. "I thought we were on good terms—remember troublemakers-in-arms?" Peeves only responded by swinging back and forth on the suspended chandelier over the moving staircases, eliciting screams and shouts as students rushed away.

What chaos did I cause?

"Did someone tell you to steal it?" asked James, leaning over the banister with Sirius as if they didn't see a chandelier teetering above their heads. I took a step forward to push them away, get them as far away as possible from Peeves when the ghost screeched, "Not telling!" and finally let go of the chandelier.

"Don't be a sour sport, Peeves," Sirius crowed. "Someone set you to this, and I would like to know. Who would dare steal from Sirius Black's own hand?"

"Me!" replied Peeves. A collective sigh escaped from Sirius and James's mouths.

"Filch! Evans! Moony tried to hold them off!" Peter cried, scurrying from down the hallway and waving wildly at Sirius and James.

"And we're gone," Sirius declared, pocketing the drawing and bounding down the staircase with Peter right behind him, huffing and puffing from his prolonged morning run.

"I mean, I wouldn't mind seeing Evans for a little bit," James called out, tilting forward over the banister and casting longing glances over his shoulder towards the direction where I could hear hurried footsteps.

"Then you deal with Filch!" I could hear Sirius shout, his voice echoing against the walls. "We're not finished with you, Peeves!" he added as a second thought. The poltergeist lay stretched across the chandelier with his chin resting on his propped arm. He looked gleeful at the prospect of Filch appearing.

"On second thought," James said. He cleared his throat and disappeared down the staircase the moment Remus, Mr. Filch, and Lily Evans emerged around the corner of the hallway. I wasn't sure where they were that they would arrive after everyone disappeared, but Remus must have had something to do with it, judging by the way he ran ahead of the others and kept casting nervous glances everywhere.

"What's all this ruckus this early in the morning?" Mr. Filch demanded, scanning the walls as if Sirius and James will appear behind them. The other troublemaker he was looking for, however, whistled and clapped his hands.

"Morning!" Peeves called out from atop the chandelier. I could pinpoint the exact moment when Filch's shoulders slackened, and his entire being that had been prepared to march students off to detention deflated.

"You get away from there if you know what's good for you!" Filch bellowed amidst Peeves guffawing as if he had never experienced something so funny before. Filch jumped from one foot to the next that resembled a strange dance from where I was hiding (why was I still hiding?) while Lily muttered something to Remus. He shrugged his shoulders in response, and the two descended the staircase at a pace that seemed slow compared to Sirius, James, and Peter running away only a minute earlier.

I sat down on the floor behind the suit of armor as Filch kept shouting at Peeves. The poltergeist definitely didn't tell Sirius and James out of spite rather than out of consideration for me, but I was still grateful, considering he got blasted by a spell first thing in the morning. Part one of my plan failed, not because of Peeves, but because of shortcomings I didn't see while preparing. I will have to be more careful from now on . . . That is, if I can do something without wands rising and chandeliers almost falling.

**A/N: Plan A. Use Peeves to retrieve the drawing = Fail**

**To vany: Thanks for reviewing! Wow, thank you so much for your kind words! I'm really happy to hear you're already enjoying the story! I'm also relieved you like the Marauders because I get so nervous writing them (I lack humor so it's difficult trying to make them funny and witty). Thanks again!**

**To Rusty Spork: Hi again! If whatever happened to Cassie happened to me, I'd bury my head in the ground like an ostrich and never appear above surface again ^^ Plan A failed so we'll have to see if Plans B and C work out :)**


	5. Blinded by the Moon

**Tracing Constellations**

**A/N: Hi! Thanks for reading my story! Enjoy!**

**Chapter 5: Blinded by the Moon**

Bringing my knees up to my chest, I sighed and spared another glance at my notes for today's Alchemy class. I couldn't even bring myself to look at my old notes because the stark contrast between the two made me want to slam my head against the wall until all non-Alchemy related material flew out of my brain. Scratched out words, slanted sentences, indecipherable phrases. I didn't even know what Professor Elric taught today, and I was lucky class was just a lecture rather than the usual hands-on experiments.

I stuffed my poor excuse of Alchemy notes into my backpack and leaned against the wall, listening to the clock ticking and the soft murmurings of students who spent their break doing homework and studying. I knew for a fact that the Marauders spent their break outside on the lawn before the Great Lake, but my recent disastrous performance in Charms earlier in the morning discouraged any thoughts of taking back my drawing with _Accio_. Why I wasn't a Squib will forever remain a mystery to me.

No, what I was doing hiding in the library? While I'm bemoaning my luck in life, Sirius was probably on the move. His earlier bout with Peeves (I groaned in humiliation) would have encouraged him to intensify his search for the mystery artist. What would he do next? If he wanted to find the artist . . . I stood up, slung my backpack over my shoulder, and dashed out of the library with the bookkeeper hissing at me.

The next obvious course of action would be to search the Art classroom. I didn't know if Sirius could tell apart an artist's drawing style, but he could easily ask Professor Magnolia if he could identify whose artwork it was, and I didn't even have to imagine the rest of the scenario. Professor Magnolia taught me art since I first came to Hogwarts, and I clasped my hands together in agony. He would tell Sirius unintentionally.

I ran down a short staircase leading to the second floor and tapped my foot against the stone step while waiting for a staircase that took its time to move. Sirius can't already be in the Art classroom. He can't be. He can't be—

A gasp escaped from my mouth as a lion from a gargantuan portrait roared while relaxing on a flat rock and flicking its long tail against yellow strands of grass. It bared its teeth in a yawn, and I almost forgot it was simply a painting as I ran down the staircase before it barely touched the landing. The second floor was clear, and my hurried footsteps echoed against the walls until I pushed the ebony wood door open, a bit too hard as I grabbed the handle before the door could collide with the wall.

"Well, that was quite the entrance," Professor Magnolia observed from his desk. "Just try not to break the door and wall. They're a pain to fix." His voice was serious, but the grin on his handsome face informed me he was just teasing.

"I'm sorry," I managed to say before whirling around the classroom. Empty, except for Professor Magnolia, who was writing something on a long piece of parchment that trailed across the smooth floor.

"Did you need something? Aren't you on break right now?" he asked, dabbing the end of his quill into a bottle of ink. He didn't look up as I dashed around the classroom and picked up drawings and paintings that were displayed for younger students to see. The edge of the Forbidden Forest in winter. The Great Hall during Halloween dinner. A sketch of Hogwarts castle that looked too similar in style with my drawing of Sirius. I stuffed this one inside of my backpack and continued gathering the rest of my artwork. Why did I paint and draw so much?

"I would tell you that Professor Kettleburn and our gamekeeper, Hagrid, found a patch of black flowers indigenous to the Forbidden Forest for you since you requested it, but, uh, you seem quite busy at the moment," Professor Magnolia commented. He leaned back in his seat, crossed his arms over his chest, and watched as I balanced all the artwork I left behind in the classroom in my twig-like arms and stumbled to the supply room. Sirius probably wouldn't check in here, right? There was no way I could carry all of these to my dorm without getting caught.

The corner of a painting with the Grey Lady on it that took me a month to draw because she kept floating away snubbed my nose, and I winced as another charcoal drawing of the Great Lake at night dug into my arm. Professor Magnolia stood up with a raised eyebrow, but he opened the door of the supply room without saying a word.

"Thank you," I mumbled behind my pile of artwork. The supply room was rather small with each shelf lining the walls filled with canvases and parchments. I dumped my paintings and drawings on the ground, careful not to get any of them ripped and wrinkled, and began hiding them in between and behind shelves.

"It is a pity to store your beautiful artwork inside a dingy room like this," Professor Magnolia commented from the opened doorway. He leaned against the frame as I slid my largest work—a painting of the Hogwarts Express as it left King's Cross Station with a billow of gray and white smoke—behind a dusty spot in the shelf and cringed at what heinous deeds I was doing to my beloved artwork. _Forgive me_, I thought with a muffled cry as I reached for my last four drawings when there was a knock on the door. I could already hear Sirius and James's voices clearly from beyond the wall. Well, this was bloody brilliant.

"I'm not here," I insisted to Professor Magnolia, who looked at me and then at the door before back at me.

"Alright, you are not here," he replied. "Say _Lumos_." Professor Magnolia gave me one last look of confusion before closing the door behind me, and I grabbed my wand from the pocket of my robes and whispered _Lumos_ as I forced myself to continue hiding my drawings instead of eavesdropping when Professor Magnolia told them to come in. It wasn't working well. I couldn't hear them properly, though Sirius must have taken out the drawing and shown it to Professor Magnolia because the voices suddenly stopped.

My ragged breathing was the only audible sound in the room, and I quickly leaned my ear against the crack between the door and doorframe with my last artwork still on the floor.

"_Does this drawing look familiar_?" Sirius asked. Oh, no. I buried my face in my hands, the end of my wand digging into my cheek, but I didn't care.

"_Hmm, well, it is a very good drawing, but I can't say I know who drew it_," Professor Magnolia replied. What? I stared at the darkened door as if I could see my art teacher and gaped. Did he just—did he just cover for me? Even though he doesn't know what's going on? He just saved my dignity?

"_Nothing at all seems familiar_?" asked a voice that sounded like Remus.

"_No, not really_. _Perhaps this artist doesn't take my class_. _I recognize all of my students' style of drawing_."

Placing my free hand against my chest, I sighed in relief, picked up my last drawing (a beautiful unicorn!), and inched towards a free spot in a shelf at the very end of the room, but tripped. Over my backpack. As if time slowed down so I could savor every second of my humiliation, I could see my arms spread out in front of me in an attempt to halt my fall. My mouth opened at its own accord, and a loud scream escaped before my knees collided with the ground, and my hands tightened around the nearest shelf. I sat frozen for a moment as my mind came to terms with what just happened, and my heart hammered in my ears. I could have split my skull open.

"_Was that a scream_?"

"_It came from over there._"

"_You keep a banshee in the supply room_?"

". . . _Maybe it was a boggart_."

I couldn't tell what was worse: my crush calling me a banshee or my art teacher calling me a boggart.

Needless to say, I was the most idiotic creature in the entire Wizarding World. Tripping over my own backpack? At least, my wand was still intact, though I couldn't say the same for my knees. I released my hold on the shelf, dropped my wand on the floor, and brushed past my skirt to rub my knees. They didn't appear broken in any way, but it bloody hurt, and I massaged them with the palm of my hands while glancing at my fallen painting. The pain in my knees felt miniscule when I saw the beautiful unicorn on the floor, perfectly safe without a tear in sight.

"_If it's a boggart, we could get rid of it for you_!"

I'm not a boggart, I'm a human!

"_It honestly sounded more like a person. . . I don't think a boggart would hide in a supply room. They like small, enclosed places. Don't you also use the supply room?"_

No, no, no, I am a boggart and I like supply rooms.

"_Ten galleons the supply room is a secret passageway into the deepest, dampest, darkest dungeon at Hogwarts_."

No, I'm just a boggart who likes supply rooms!

"_Why would the Professor have a secret passageway to Slytherin's dormitory_? _I'd seal off the entrance_."

Let's not seal it off while I'm still in here.

"_You boys have quite the hyperactive imagination, don't you? Well, it's not a boggart actually. . ." _Footsteps grew louder and louder.

With a gasp, I quickly scrambled to my feet and dusted off the back of my skirt and robes when the door swung open. I froze as Professor Magnolia gave me a small smile while the Marauders stood behind him and peered over his outstretched arm and shoulder in an effort to determine if I was really a boggart or the supply a room an entrance into a dungeon. I couldn't tell if they were disappointed or not.

"The boggart was actually one of my students," Professor Magnolia explained. "She has a tendency to lock herself inside this room while getting supplies, and I was attempting to free her when you came knocking." I ducked my head and raised a shaky hand to push a strand of hair behind my ear when my eyes glazed over Sirius without thinking. He was grinning _at me _with a raised eyebrow as if he was proud of something, and I bent down on one knee to pick up my backpack to hide my flushed face. I wish this were a passageway into a dungeon. I'd lock myself up for all eternity.

"Make sure you keep the door propped open next time, alright?" said Professor Magnolia, and I dared to glance up at him while Sirius was still looking inside the supply room. My art teacher winked at me before motioning to the Marauders to move along.

"I believe you have to pay up ten Galleons, mate," said James, looping his arm over Sirius's shoulder and dragging him away.

"I believe I was the only one who made the bet," retorted Sirius. I leaned my chin against my arm and shut my eyes closed when I heard my backpack move. I opened my eyes and raised my head to see Remus bent down and offering my backpack to me.

"Sorry you were stuck in here because of us," he said with a hesitant smile.

"O-oh, no, i-it was m-my own fault," I stammered, standing up and taking my backpack from him. Hearing the rustling of thick paper, I quickly stuffed the sketch of Hogwarts castle into the depths of my backpack and hoped Remus didn't see it, though his eyes were looking elsewhere.

"Is that your painting?" he asked, gesturing to my left. Clutching my backpack close to my chest, I followed his gaze and held back the urge to yelp when I saw the unicorn painting on the floor. How could I forget?

"Uh, um, n-no, s-someone must have l-left it th-there," I replied in a slightly wheezing voice as the pounding of my heart suffocated my lungs.

"Oh, well, it's a very good painting," Remus managed to say, and I didn't need to look up at him to see the skeptical/horror-struck expression on his face at my stuttering display of nerves. "I'll see you then." With a wave, Remus departed from the room at a fast pace lest my creepiness affect him negatively, and I knelt down on the ground again from overwhelming embarrassment. Locking myself in the supply room? Tripping over my own backpack? Exposing my paintings for everyone to see? All in front of Sirius? Why am I still breathing?

"I wouldn't worry too much. Everyone has their own quirks when it comes to dealing with their crushes," Professor Magnolia stated, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest and the cockiest smile imaginable on his handsome face. "It's not too embarrassing getting locked up in the supply room. I mean, imagine if they seriously thought there was a boggart in here. That'd be a mess I probably can't fix." I dragged my feet to pick up the unicorn painting and stooped down while holding onto it with the tips of my fingers.

"But for you to have a crush on Sirius Black," whistled Professor Magnolia. "I know most, if not all the girls at Hogwarts are attracted to him, but I didn't know you'd fancy a mischievous troublemaker like him, Cassie. I'm surprised! You're into the rebellious, bad boy types, aren't you? A bit of excitement, huh?"

"He's not that bad," I muttered while resting my chin on my knees and staring at a dark spot on the floor.

"Oh, yeah, Black is a good kid deep down," Professor Magnolia agreed. "Professor McGonagall scolds and gives him and Potter that infamous scowl of hers three times a day on average—I would know, this is what we teachers talk about in the lounge room—but she's strangely fond of them like the rest of us twisted people. Especially Potter since he's a genius at Quidditch, and we all know how competitive Professor McGonagall is when it comes to that certain sport."

When I couldn't help but exhale a deep sigh, Professor Magnolia took a step towards me and picked up my unicorn painting, my fingers brushing against the smooth gold frame. "That Lupin kid was right. This is a good painting. Are you going to save the rest of your equally beautiful artwork?"

"I probably should," I replied with another sigh. "Thank you for helping me."

"Save the gratitude for when I actually do something monumentally useful," Professor Magnolia chuckled. "I'll return this to its original spot unless you want to keep it and the rest of your artwork in your room."

"If it's OK, I'll keep them in here," I said.

"As if you need to ask," Professor Magnolia replied. I lowered my head again and buried my face in my arms as he walked away, though I could hear his footsteps pause. "I don't want to pry any further into your personal life, Cassie, but I honestly don't see any harm in revealing yourself as the secret admir—I mean, artist to Black in my humble opinion. Like I said, he's a good kid. And who knows, maybe he feels the same way. Why else would he go to these lengths to find out who you are?"

"To commission more artwork," I answered in a muffled voice.

"Because you're a gifted artist," Professor Magnolia finished. "You're fortunate that there's already a sense of admiration from Black's side. Your artwork could bring you closer to him, you know, so take a chance."

"I can't do that, though," I whispered, and a heavy feeling began weighing down my chest from this verbal confession of my greatest regret and wish.

"No one's stopping you, Cassie," said Professor Magnolia after a moment of silence. "Only yourself." There was a sense of finality to his tone as he continued walking away and added, "I'll help you return all the artwork to their original places lest your arms collapse like before." I glanced up and watched his retreating figure before leaning over and picking up my illuminated wand, rubbing my thumb against the smooth wood.

"_Nox_," I whimpered, watching the shimmering, waning light disappear.

**A/N: I know I updated the first four chapters a bit quickly, but now I have to set up a schedule because I don't have a lot of time to write. I'm aiming for a new chapter every other Sunday night (so a chapter every two weeks) so I will have enough time to write and revise, and I hope this will work out *crosses fingers* I'm really sorry for the late update, and I will do my best to stick with this new schedule!**

**To Guest: Thank you for reviewing! I'm happy you liked the ending and thank you for your kind words!**


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